USA Today bestselling author KELLY JAMIESON is the author of more than forty contemporary romance novels. She writes the kind of books she loves to read—sexy romances with heat, humor, and emotion. She likes coffee (black), wine (mostly white), and shoes (high!). She also loves watching hockey.
kellyjamieson.com
Twitter: @KellyJamieson
Read on for an excerpt from
Big Stick
An Aces Hockey Novel
by Kelly Jamieson
Available from Loveswept
Nick would rather be having his back, sack, and crack waxed than be going to a party, but it was his best buddy Hallsy’s birthday, and Hallsy had been through a rough time the last couple of years. Actually, so had he; they were a sad pair. Anyway, after what they’d been through he could at least do this. One little birthday party with all their teammates. He’d managed to get out of the Super Bowl party a few weeks ago at Rosser’s place, but he couldn’t turn down this.
Hallsy totally deserved this bash his new girlfriend, Kendra, was throwing him.
Seeing his friend happy and in love again was great, but it was February, which was almost March, which was a bad month for Nick. He knew he should just get over it, but it wasn’t that easy.
Kendra opened the door to him, a big smile on her face. He’d gotten to know her somewhat better over the last months, and she was…fantastic. He wasn’t one to get all excited about things, and he was irritated about having to be here, but even he didn’t have it in him to be an asshole to Kendra.
Her smile glowed, her long red-gold hair flowing back over her shoulders. “Hi, Nick!” And she went up on her toes and hugged him.
He wasn’t a huggy person. His body stiffened, and he circled his arms around her body without really touching her. Shit. He was being an asshole. He couldn’t help himself.
She drew back, still smiling, like she hadn’t even noticed his awkwardness. “This must be for Max.”
“Yeah.” He handed over the parcel, an expensive single malt Scotch collection that included some Scotch stones and a tumbler, which thankfully had come gift wrapped in glossy black and white paper, because he was good with his hands but not when it came to flimsy paper and sticky goddamn tape.
“We said no gifts,” she admonished him.
“I know, I know, but it’s not much, really.”
She shook her head, but smiled. “Come in, I’ll go put this away. What can we get you to drink? Beer? Scotch?”
“Scotch would be great.”
Kendra bustled ahead of him carrying the gift, and Nick followed her into the spacious living room of the condo Hallsy had bought last year. He’d been there plenty of times but this was the first time he’d seen it like this—filled with people talking and laughing, music playing, the atmosphere warm and vibrant.
What a difference.
It was good, though, really good for Hallsy.
He exchanged bro handshakes, hugs, and backslaps with some of his teammates and their wives, forcing smiles for them. “Hey, Benny. Jenna. Hi, Dupe. Army. Good to see you, Lovey. Amber.”
All three women were pregnant. They looked huge. Okay that was exaggerating, but pregnancy scared the crap out of Nick. Where was that drink?
He wandered farther, greeting more of the guys, spying Kendra in the dining room at the buffet that had been set up as a bar. He headed that way and accepted the glass she handed him. “Thanks. Cheers.” He held up the glass.
An arm hooked around his neck and yanked him. Hallsy.
Nick shook his head, smiling. This time the hug was easy. “Happy birthday, old man.”
“Thanks, bro. Glad you came.”
Hallsy said it lightly, but Nick heard the serious undertone in his voice. Nick had been blowing off invitations all month, and Hallsy knew it and he knew why. He’d taken to dropping in at Nick’s new house at random times, just for a beer or coffee or to hang out. Nick knew he was checking up on him. It bugged him and made him roll his eyes and…he’d never in a million years admit that it struck him square in the heart.
“Wouldn’t miss the birthday party. Big three-oh. Dude. You’re practically retirement age.”
Hallsy snorted.
This was an exaggeration, but not by that much. The average age in the NHL was now something like twenty-seven, which was Nick’s age. Sure there were guys who were older than that still playing, but it seemed like the league was getting younger and younger.
“Yeah, not ready for retirement yet. Just worked my ass off to get back to playing. I’m good for another ten years at least,” he boasted.
He could be right. When Hallsy’s wife had been diagnosed with cancer a couple of years ago, he’d taken some time off from the game, and it had turned into more than a season after she’d passed away. He’d needed that time, but it had definitely set him back when it came to playing one of the most grueling sports in the world. He had worked hard to get back in shape. He’d made an amazing comeback and was keeping up with kids a lot younger than him. Nick had mad respect for Hallsy’s determination and dedication.
“Help yourself to food.” Kendra waved a hand at the dining table loaded with platters and bowls of all kinds of snacks.
Nick grinned at the balloons above the table that read DIRTY 30. “Fitting.”
Kendra grinned. “I thought so.”
Nick moved over to the table and picked up a plate. He selected a few items—some meatballs, veggies, bacon-wrapped scallops. Those stuffed mushrooms looked awesome, so he grabbed a couple of those too. He moved to a corner of the room, standing by himself as the party went on.
Movement at his feet caught his attention, and he glanced down to see Molly, Hallsy’s puppy. She sat gazing up at him with big brown puppy eyes, tongue hanging out of her mouth. “Hi, dog,” he said. “What do you want?”
The dog didn’t answer.
“Food, huh?” Sure, he could have a conversation with a dog. Why not. “How about a meatball?” He selected one of the small balls and held it up. Molly’s ears perked, and her spine straightened. “How’re your catching skills?”
He tossed the meatball to the dog. She watched it hit the floor.
“Damn, need some work,” he murmured.
Molly sniffed the meat then scarfed it down, resuming her sitting pose to gaze at him imploringly once more.
He bent to wipe the sauce off the hardwood floor with a paper napkin. “Probably shouldn’t do this,” he muttered. “But you’re kinda cute. Try harder this time.” He tossed a meatball again, and this time Molly caught it. “Hey, good girl.” He felt unreasonably pleased, considering he didn’t really even like dogs. Or cats. Or kids. Or adults, for that matter.
“You probably shouldn’t be feeding her people food.”
Nick started and glanced to his left where a woman stood holding a glass of red wine.
Busted.
He eyed her. He didn’t know who she was—dating one of the young guys maybe? He couldn’t help but glance at her left hand. No ring.
She was pretty enough, although big dark-framed glasses hid half her face. Okay, not really. Looking closer, she had nice enough eyes behind the hipster glasses. Her mouth, though, was hot—full-lipped, with up-tilted corners. Messy brown waves brushed her shoulders as she shook her head. “Don’t worry, I won’t rat you out.” She smiled.
“It’s meat. It won’t hurt her.”
She looked down at Molly, still shamelessly begging. “Molly, you’re so cute. It’s hard to resist giving you whatever you want.” She handed the dog a little piece of cheese from the table.
“Hey.”
She gave him a mischievous smile. “She’s adorable.” She set her drink down, bent, and picked up the puppy, cuddling her and letting her lick her chin. “Aren’t you adorable, you little mooch.”
He wat
ched Molly lavish affection on the woman as if she knew her and loved her. Huh.
“I’m Jodie.” The woman extended a hand. “A friend of Kendra’s.”
Right, right. He was a tool. Introductions were polite. “Nick. Nick Balachov.” He set his plate down on the table and took her hand to shake it. As his fingers closed around hers, he was struck by how soft and delicate her hand felt in his, yet her grip was firm and strong.
“Nice to meet you, Nick.” She set Molly down and picked up her glass again. “I’ve heard Max mention you. You play hockey with him.”
“Ah, yeah.”
She smiled, apparently waiting for him to say more. Silence drew out. “Well! That’s exciting. Hockey’s a, um, crazy sport.”
He stared at her. Crazy?
“I mean, it’s very violent. I mean, physical. I don’t really know much about it, but I think there’s lots of fighting, right?”
“No.”
She blinked. “Oh. Um. Okay. I went to a game once, and there were a couple of fights.”
She went to a game once? And she was judging the whole sport on that one game? Christ. “Most games there are no fights.”
“Oh, okay. But, still, there’s a lot of hitting. Slamming each other into the boards and knocking each other down.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Yeah.”
“It seems really scary to me.” She laughed. “But I guess not to you.”
He shook his head. She was way too chatty for him and his mood. He lifted his empty glass. “Excuse me. I need another drink.” He paused, gritting his teeth at the urge to be polite even as he gave in to it. “Can I get you something?”
“No, thanks.” She held up her own glass, still half full. “I’m good.”
He gave a brusque nod and turned away, heading across the room to where the bar was. He helped himself to another Scotch. As he poured it, a burst of laughter assailed his ears and he winced, then let out a short breath.
Parties were fun, he reminded himself.
He moved toward the living room, surveying it and sipping his Scotch. He noticed the doors to the balcony and a couple of shadowy figures on it. Curious, he strolled that way and stepped outside. The evening was clear and calm, chilly but bearable. Hallsy, Duper, and Rosser were there with cigars.
“You found the cigar bar.” Hallsy held up his smoke. “Want one?”
“Sure.” Nick plucked one from a container and used the cutter on the table. Hallsy flicked a lighter and held it up for him. Nick puffed on the richly flavored stogie.
“Boosh says he’s doing better,” Duper said.
“Still not cleared for even non-contact practice though,” Nick replied glumly.
“And Gander and Rupper are both out now. Man.” Hallsy shook his head. “Why does it always seem things happen all at once?”
“And we’ve been playing well, dammit.”
The team had been doing well this year, but injuries were starting to plague them with a few guys out now. And Chaser was still struggling to score goals, playing less minutes, which meant he, Nick, was playing more. They both played left wing, and Coach had juggled the lines, moving him up to the third line to play with Rico and Brick. He knew he was a solid fourth line player, a grinder not a star goal scorer, and this extra pressure of more minutes and new line mates was weighing on him. He wanted to live up to expectations and do what he could for the team.
He worried he wasn’t capable of that.
“So has Lovey lost her mind being pregnant?” Rosser asked Duper.
Duper snorted. “Hell yeah. She says she can’t do dishes because it makes her nauseous.” He grimaced. “Well, in fairness, she has been sick a lot.”
“That sucks. Jenna has to take food every place with her, and she uses the bathroom everywhere we go in case she doesn’t get another chance. Apparently she has to pee all the time. Baby’s sitting on her bladder, or something.”
Nick winced. He didn’t really want to be part of this conversation.
“Does she get weird cravings?” Duper asked.
“Not anymore. At first she did, like, all she wanted was sauerkraut.”
“Sauerkraut? Jesus.”
“I know, right? And pickle juice. She drank it from the jar.”
Nick stared in horror.
“Yeah, I’ve made a lot of donut runs for Jenna.” Rosser shook his head. “At midnight, even.”
Hallsy stubbed out his cigar. “Well, I better get back in there.”
“Yeah.” Rosser and Duper did the same.
“Coming?” Hallsy asked Nick as he moved to the door.
“I’ll stay out here a bit longer.” Nick held up the cigar.
The air was crisp and clean, layered with the mellow scent of Nicaraguan tobacco. He moved to the short wall and looked out over the glittering city. He missed having this kind of view, but he was enjoying working on his house. He got lost in thoughts about what projects to take on next, and so the feminine voice startled him.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said.
He recognized the voice—Jodie, who he’d been talking to earlier. He turned. “Hey.”
“You’re missing the party,” she said.
“Not really,” he said wryly.
She tilted her head, then said, “Wow, you’re rude.”
His chin jerked back. “What?”
“You’re at a birthday party. You were hanging out all by yourself in the dining room earlier, now you’re out here. It seems a little rude to your host and hostess to not even hide the fact that you don’t want to be here.”
That obvious, huh? He scrubbed a hand over his mouth. “At least I came,” he muttered.
She gave him a disbelieving look. “You didn’t even want to come to your own friend’s birthday party?” She shook her head. “That’s sad.”
Annoyance rubbed inside him. Who the hell was she to judge him?
“Hey, is that a cigar?” She moved closer.
“Yeah.” He gave his head a shake at the swift change of topic.
“Can I have a puff?”
“Uh…” He looked down at the cigar, bemused, then held it out to her. She took it and, damn, watching her put her lips on it where his had been was inexplicably hot. She leaned on the balcony railing next to him and blew out smoke into the cool night. “Nice.”
“Only the best for Hallsy.”
“So why are you such a grouch? Not enough fiber in your diet? Can’t be PMS.” She puffed again on the cigar, then handed it back to him. “Oh, I know—not enough sex. That’ll do it.”
He choked. “Jesus.”
“Sex does have a positive impact on mood,” she continued. “Although depression can affect your libido. Maybe that’s the problem.” She slanted him a glance. “Have you sought medical attention?”
“Christ, no.” He glared at her.
“Hmm. So just a lack of sex then. But it’s not that easy, I know. I mean, sex is great but it’s not a magic mood booster. Bad sex or sex for the wrong reasons won’t help your mood. On the other hand, mediocre sex could give you an ego boost and improve your mood a lot.”
“Are you offering?”
Jesus fucking Christ. What did he just say? The words had popped out before he could think them through. Heat washed up from his chest into his face.
She laughed, luckily not taking offense. “I doubt you need me to help. You’re a professional athlete. Don’t you have groupies stalking you night and day?”
Yeah, that did happen, but he wasn’t much into the bar scene anymore, and puck bunnies didn’t usually hang out at Home Depot or Menards. He just shook his head.
“Seriously, there are lots of benefits from having sex, including mood boosting. Stronger immune system. A lack of sex can make you more susceptible to erectile dysfunction and prostate cance
r.”
“Christ.” He rubbed his mouth. Who was this woman?
“Although I’m more familiar with the effects of sex, or lack of sex, on women,” she continued cheerfully. “Did you know that there are compounds in semen—melatonin, serotonin, oxytocin—that have mood-boosting benefits for women who have unprotected sex?”
“Uh…”
“On the other hand, unprotected sex doesn’t improve your mood if it results in an unwanted pregnancy or an STD.”
He blinked, mouth open, watching her spout off. Unbelievable.
He’d already made an escape from her once on the pretext of needing another drink. He couldn’t use that again. Although, in truth it wasn’t a pretext—he most definitely needed another drink. He set his cigar into a big ashtray. “You must be cold. Let’s go back in and join the party.”
“Great idea!” They walked back into the warmth of the condo. She stopped short. “Oh my God! Is that Jordyn Banks?”
Nick glanced across the room, where his teammate Chase Hartman stood, still wearing his jacket. Must have just arrived. And yes, he was accompanied by Jordyn Banks, who he was apparently dating now. Obviously Jodie knew who Jordyn was—a pretty famous rising pop singer. “Yeah.”
“Holy crap!” She blinked her long eyelashes rapidly behind her glasses, staring at the couple. Then she muttered, “I knew I wasn’t going to fit in at this party.”
He frowned. What the hell did that mean?
“Uh, everyone’s a little starstruck around her,” he said.
She grimaced. “Oh, sure. You’re all freakin’ famous.”
Kendra waved at them from where she stood talking to Chaser and Jordyn, beckoning them over. Jodie stretched her mouth into a smile and started toward them.
Most people would rush over to meet a famous pop star. She seemed…reluctant. Huh.
Nick headed the other direction over to the bar to pour another generous splash of Scotch into his empty glass, then gulped back a mouthful that burned its way down his esophagus. Good thing he’d taken an Uber here.
Kendra was motioning him to come meet Jordyn Banks too. Swallowing a sigh, he crossed the room and let Kendra introduce him. “Nice to meet you,” he said to Jordyn, shaking the pop star’s hand.
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